


A Hero Is Only As Good As His Weapon

by echoinglight



Series: Link & Ghirahim [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Angst, Character Development, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:52:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3969922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoinglight/pseuds/echoinglight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over, but Link still suffers from what he endured during his journey. And he thought that "red thread" snapped after their battle, but the reappearance of the demon shows that their binding fate is far from over; now the sword is masterless, and the swordsman is swordless, and maybe they can fill the holes left by the gods that used them. Neither are who they thought. [Post-SS; in-depth exploration of characters and backstories; established ghiralink (various ways)]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Broken Blade

**Author's Note:**

> I started this monster on tumblr, and I'm finally filling in the beginnings so it will posted here fully in order as it's done! There's just a bit to get through before the meat of it, trying to get better at writing build-up. Reviews are, of course, encouraged!

Link took deep pants of air as Ghirahim fell to his knees and clutched desperately at his chest as he faltered. In the sudden stillness between them Link could see the gem behind the demon's hand, the shattered shards that stuck inside. But worse was the metallic skin around it, cracking and flaking from the damage. He'd been perfectly smooth and shining before the fight had started, and now he was a dulled, mangled body. Link's anger ebbed at the sight, rather than feeling triumph, like he probably should. All he had gone through had led him to this end, to this victory over the demon despite the assured threats of the enemy, but as the adrenaline of the ferocious fight settled, it left an odd gape in his chest to see this fate the other had so often spoke of coming to life. Still, fierce fire glinted in his eyes at the demon's words of incredulity.

But that died away quickly. Link suddenly had a terrible sense of foreboding at the nonchalance of his enemy, then – no!

He heard a rushing static as he witnessed his worst fears come to life. The very thing he had tried to prevent all this time – all for nothing. Ghirahim's cackling rang in his ears, his heart pushing so hard against his chest as instinct shied him away from the foul evil of the creature coming back to life. But none of this showed on his face. A sheen of determined calm had all of this seem simply as background noise. Not even despair found him here, staring down the resurrecting monster with a warrior's quiet strength. He knew what needed to be done. He knew he had to be the one to do it. Fear and doubt were long past.

As Demise rose to his full height and colour filled his body, pulsing like a heartbeat, Link's eyes actually traveled elsewhere – finding the demon lord standing off to the side, hand on his chest in a proper bow. For all his emotion he had vented to Link about how important this was to him, it felt strangely surreal to watch it happening. This arrogant, powerful being who had haunted his quest now stood straight and pleased before this horrible creature, something Link couldn't picture before, and found unsettling now.

Suddenly, Demise shot out his hand, having ignored the spirit's welcome. Link's eyes widened as Ghirahim fell to his back, grasping at the air as though surprised as to why nothing held him up any longer. Dread prickled over Link's skin as then Ghirahim began to rise, held in place by whatever magic hold Demise had on him, his arms spread as though mounted. Link clenched his sword tighter. Something about this was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Then a choked gasp forced itself from the spirit, a horrible grating noise rending through him as a bright light shone from his damaged chest. And… he began to laugh. It was a maniacal, out-of-control sound that was so out of place for the horrific thing Link was witnessing. His heart squeezed in his chest, sudden aching sadness pulsing through him. Sadness? Why sadness? Fear and uneasiness made sense, but not this. The anger and hatred that usually overtook him when he looked at Ghirahim felt like it had been ripped out of him, his throat closed over silent words that rejected what he was seeing. He wanted it to stop. He wanted Ghirahim to stop laughing – at least scream instead. Somehow that would make it more bearable. But not this. It was a sound of utter defeat, and despair – he laughed like there was simply nothing else for him to do.

A sword rent itself out of the being's chest and flew into Demise's hand. Link's eyes widened. It looked like an awful, twisted version of the Master Sword, and it gave him a sense of ominous dread.

Ghirahim had gone quiet, Link realized, looking at him suspended high above the ground with his head slumped now. He had an urge to go to the spirit, to take him away from his cruel master, no matter how cruel he himself was. This was wrong - Ghirahim had been wrong. This wasn't to be their fate. This couldn't be it. This couldn't be the end of the intertwining thread that bound them together. He didn't understand what implanted such a thought, such a intense wish for all this to change.

With a soft groan, the spirit began to fade away, melting into light that was pulled into the hilt of the sword. Link's stomach twisted as he disappeared, evaporating from his sight and from his reach. Then Demise bared the blade at the hero, and Link could only look at it as Ghirahim's prison – or what may be his grave. That thought had once given him great satisfaction, but now it only spurred sorrow. He had realized what Ghirahim was, confirmed the moment he displayed his true essence for that brief flash, but the way this scene had played out gave him none of the feelings he had when he saw Fi and how she dwelled within her respective blade.  _It should be the same_ , he thought.  _It shouldn't even matter to me – he's my enemy, and apparently will fight me yet again._  But regardless, he still felt shaken and sad. The absence of the demon felt so absolute, so concrete that it sent an icy chill through Link. And the thought of never again seeing Ghirahim was a jarring hammer in his head. He didn't understand why – wasn't that what he wanted? For him to go away? But something in what he had just witnessed revealed something to Link, something that he didn't know what to do with… perhaps there was far more to Ghirahim than the spirit had let on. The uncertainty pained him, distracted for that brief moment.

But Demise went on to address him as though nothing unusual had happened, and Link faced him with a fighting stance and piercing eyes once again. Ghirahim was gone now, and there was work to do. And something about that scene triggered a hardening in his heart, because for all the warnings about the cruelty and horror of this demon king, it was hard to fully grasp. But this display had laid it out in wrenching truth to the hero, showing him the full reality of this monster he was to fight.

He stepped forward and raised his sword in challenge.


	2. The Dust Settles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey is over, but Link finds he still has battles to fight.

This storm was unnatural. Everything about this place was unnatural, and the appearance of dark clouds and startling flashes of blue light only made the scene that much more unnerving. Demise called down the lightning in a similar way to Link's Skyward Strikes, as though mocking his inability to call upon the goddesses' divine light here. Link raised his shield and with a resounding clang the gargantuan sword rebounded off the surface, the electricity in the blade feeding harmlessly into the hard material. Link backed away in the few seconds while his enemy recomposed himself – and then he realized, two could play at this game. He raised his sword to the sky and the crackling energy was instantly attracted to the metal of his sword, filling it with a powerful jolt and leaving it sparkling with the flame-like plasma. Link rushed Demise with the charged weapon, hitting his mark.

His sword clanged against Ghirahim's fierce blade, and knowing that the spirit resided within sat strangely inside the hero. The crystal in the hilt seemed to flare with each strike, something Link noted only in the back of his mind. Demise hadn't been the face of evil through his long ordeal – he'd been a vague threat of impending doom on a scale so great it could hardly be fathomed. But Ghirahim… the demon had antagonized Link time and time again, actively pursuing and threatening something specifically dear to him, and so all the anger and fear and hatred he felt when he thought of the cause of all this bore Ghirahim's countenance.

He attacked with ferocity, a strange satisfaction in the clanging of their blades as Link felt the Master Sword bite into Ghirahim's sword. Still now, the fight he waged felt so much more directed at the spirit than his master – if he hadn't interfered, Demise wouldn't be breathing at all! His eyes followed the black edge, his calm concentration momentarily distracted until he recovered himself. The blade wasn't his target, the hand behind it now was. How odd it was, to still sense Ghirahim's life before him rather than being able to ignore him now that he inhabited a completely different shape.

This demon king would possibly stir little but revulsion for his terrible threats if not for the display he'd been witness to before the battle had begun. The way he'd wrenched the prideful figure of Ghirahim into submission held an inexplicable horror to Link. Perhaps it was in the terrible juxtaposition of the spirit's overwhelming personality and the servitude he'd suddenly exuded, or maybe it was because Link himself knew what it was like to be the master of a sword, and would never imagine treating Fi in that way. Regardless, the spectacle had put some of Demise's cruelty on display; the only evil of his Link had been witness to with his own eyes.

This was enough to quell some of Link's anger toward the spirit and again arouse his pity. He took his mind off of Ghirahim. There was nothing he could do now.

The demon king was beginning to weaken now, falling full on his back with Link's blows. The hero kept to his feet, splashing in the shallow water, refusing to let himself slow. There were no nerves, no hesitation, no doubt. No thoughts of destiny or saving the world distracted him. It was just this moment now. Just the fight.

One last slash sent the vile creature that was Demise back and Link acted on his opportunity without even a split second to think about it – he leapt high in the air, summoning the electric force into the Master Sword to mingle with its holy light as he thrust it into his enemy's chest.

He leapt back, knowing that even as Demise rose to his feet he was on his last breaths. The demon king's words were haunting, but Link let them glance off him for now, standing strong despite the fierce battle, staring him down with the proud eyes that reflected the depths of his spirit. The great sword vanished, to Link's surprise, seeming to fade into a nothingness that befitted an end to such a malevolent weapon, refusing to simply shatter. The now-former master soon followed, his essence captured into Link's sword, and the spell binding the dimension broke and set him free.

Link stood tall as he returned to his friends, everything seeming to fade into a calm static, a strange standstill as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that it was over, all  _over._

He smiled with the group, taking part in their small way of celebrating. He let himself take in the happiness, the release that relief brought. He was proud, in a way. He was stronger, holding himself in a quietly self-assured manner. He felt a measure of peace as he stood atop the statue and looked out on the world, which suddenly seemed brand new all over again.

He finally parted from Zelda, telling her he needed to be alone for a bit, to allow himself to truly think about everything that had just happened. The overwhelming relief was beginning to settle, and a questionable uneasiness spread through the hero's center.

When he closed the door to the great temple, he slowly slid to the floor and hugged his arms around his knees… and allowed himself a moment to mourn.

The Master Sword stood proud in its pedestal across the room, but Link knew the little blue spirit inside would never leapt from its hilt again. The sheath on his back felt light and empty, and it nagged at the back of his mind, like something so obvious as an arm had been detached and left behind.

Link finally dried his eyes, taking deep breaths and resting his head back against the door, listening to the silence of the stone walls.

_What about you, Link? What will you do now?_

It was easy to consider the endless options before him. They had a whole world ahead, a land that Link felt a deep love and loyalty to that he could not fully explain. This was a beautiful land worth protecting, worth exploring, worth living in.

The world was at peace, and its hero made content by it.

The rest he allowed when first returning was a long-sought relief. His young body had built itself up through the grueling trials he'd been put through, but the fatigue had gathered itself over that time, and he found himself sleeping in preposterously late for the first time in months. Just this small thing offered a sense of solace – there was, indeed, a piece of him inclined to remain mostly unchanged when given the chance. He reveled in the laziness he could finally, truly grant to himself.

The coming days brought about the beginnings of change. Talk of transitioning to the surface and plans to match were being developed, and the unaffected population of Skyloft were finally aware of the impending doom that had been prevented. Link withdrew from such discussions, and more so the questions, the odd stares of people who had once simply been his neighbors and shopkeepers; these familiar faces were now made strange by a degree of separation no conversation could hope to breach. Their lives had continued on, unaware and without fear, and now the potential changes ahead still did little to present the scope to which Link had been transformed. Where there had once been that tight-knit community feel that came with the fairly small population, Link seemed to have stepped into a realm slightly off to the side. The people didn't seem to know how to regard him; questioning, reverence, amazement, or simply indifference seemed to be the most common reactions on their faces.

There was loneliness, but there was also assuagement in their safety.

Link wished more than ever for the company of Fi. Little as she knew of emotion, she at least possessed the memories of what Link had endured, and the thought of the comfort that would bring left a small ache. He spent a lot of time with his Loftwing, taking consolation from the familiar feeling of the bond between the boy and his bird as he flew over the world he had traveled on foot, glad that the guardians would take them below the clouds now that the danger had gone.

_What about you, Link…?_

* * *

 

The academy was quiet. Link lay stretched out on his bed with an inherent patience that let time slide by without disruption. But it wasn't as easy and drowsy a patience as the boy was used to wasting time with. He still felt a tug that compelled him to action, a habit that had yet to recede from the weeks of forced momentum he'd been put through.

He opened his eyes slowly, softly flexing his fingers, his palms facing up at his sides. Was it only habit that caused this restlessness? Perhaps he should go out and do a search; confirm the presence of peace. He was sitting up and pulling on his boots before he could fully finish the thought, but abruptly he came to a halt again, sitting back on the bed with a sigh. A strange feeling crept across his heart, one of uncertainty and… something else. Dread?

He put the compulsion and the unease away again, letting it slip away like a bad dream. He stood, picking up his sword belt and heading out for a slow walk through the falling dark in Skyloft.

_What will you do now…_

Link continued only getting more restless. He thought the end of it all would send him right back to his old life, but it was becoming more and more clear that he was not just his old self. His muscles were trained to be a swordsman, and his feet to be a traveler, and he couldn't ignore the demands his new mental state drove him toward.

The slow process of building a life below the clouds began, a task Link left to Zelda almost fully. He did have some things he wanted to take on himself… he knew the land better than any of them possibly would, having seen a lot its beauty, resources, monsters, and other inhabitants, and that continued exploration and education was where he contributed the most. Still, the hero kept largely to himself outside of more necessary conversations.

This wasn't unusual to anyone, really – except Zelda.

A knock on the door got Link's attention, looking up from the block of wood he'd been working with. He'd looked over this morning to see the partially carved figure he'd left on his desk months ago, and it was a strange thing, to be reminded of such a simple hobby he'd had talent in before his new skill set had taken over. He'd picked up a new bit of wood, enjoying returning to yet another small piece of himself that remained unchanged.

"Yes?"

The door opened slowly, and the blonde hair of his best friend was obvious as she poked her head in. "Hey, Link. Mind if I come in?"

He smiled and gestured her to come closer.

She closed the door behind her and walked in, putting a hand on the back of his chair and smiling down at his handiwork. "It's been a long time since I've seen a new figure of yours. It looks good."

He brushed off some of the shavings and set it down. "Thanks." He turned his head to look up at her with a small smile.

She smiled back and turned to stand at the side of the desk and face him. "Some of the knights went exploring around the woods today. They said your maps were really helpful."

He nodded, his eyes bright. "The Kikwis helped me in making sure they were as accurate as possible."

"Ah, yes, the Kikwis! They're being lovely to us, aren't they?"

"They like everyone who's not trying to eat them." He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms, rubbing his bare wrists, his gloves and bracers off to the side of the desk.

Zelda laughed a bit and clasped her hands. "Oh, and um… some of the knights – they were also asking… if you would train them a bit? They're convinced you know much more about swords than what they learned here at the Academy."

Link rubbed the back of his head, his face falling slightly. "I… I dunno." He paused. "That's kind of strange for me to be known for, isn't it?" His lips quirked humorlessly at the corners. "And I'm still not… well, comfortable with my replacement sword, I guess."

Zelda's eyes softened with understanding. "The Master Sword is what you were born to wield. It'll be hard to find another blade you resonate with… give yourself time."

He sighed, slumping against the back of his chair.

"Hey… Link, I know it's probably not been easy trying to get back to normal life the past couple weeks… we both have a lot of adjusting to do. But… are you okay? You've been so distant…"

He chewed at the inside of his lip. "…I'm not sure. It doesn't feel real yet. Sometimes it doesn't feel like it's all over." He blinked after the words left his mouth. He hadn't been aware that was the truth of how he felt until he'd said so. "It so abruptly ended… I guess I'm still just processing." He thought again for a moment before looking up at her. "Do you ever feel… feel like revisiting some of the old places? I keep getting these urges to go back, like making sure it's all still there."

"Maybe you should." She tilted her head, regarding him kindly. "There wouldn't be any harm in giving yourself that kind of closure. What's holding you back from doing it?"

He blinked, his brow furrowing as he realized he wasn't sure what had made him convince himself out of it every time the urge had struck. "I… I don't know."

"You should go, then. Visit the temples. Visit the dragons. Visit Fi. Go see the world in the peace that you gave to it."

He nodded, and she squeezed his hand before leaving.

With evening descending, he figured he'd spend the rest of the day preparing for the journey, going through a mental checklist that had become familiar to him. He headed out toward the bazaar, but found his feet taking him all the way down the path and through the plaza until he stood on the platform directly facing the opening in the clouds leading into Faron. He stood silent and still, save for the wind rustling through his hair and his hat, lost in thought.

His eyes slowly closed, and there was a sudden rushing sensation, like he'd fallen headfirst into water. He wasn't afraid, even as inky blackness swallowed him. His eyes slowly opened, and he saw something far in the distance – a light, an undulating orange-red light, too far to make out anything else about it. Link was inexplicably drawn to it, but he couldn't move from where he was, hovered in midair. He squinted, trying to see, straining to hear. He could barely make out a strange sound, like whispering that was steadily getting louder. The louder it got the more an uneasiness spread through him, until the feeling that was drawing him in was suddenly the very thing making him struggle to get away, covering his head with his arms. Something was wrong here, something dark and insidious that he couldn't place despite a familiarity that nagged insistently at his memory.

He shouldn't go closer, but how he wanted to, like a horror-driven fascination, an urge to open Pandora's box. A laugh echoed through his head, and the scene abruptly dissipated.

His eyes leapt open and he startled as he found himself back in reality, still standing on the platform. He looked all around him to confirm the reappearance of real life, and his eyes slowly settled on the opening in the clouds again, stepping forward with his brow furrowing. Whatever he'd just seen, if he could place an origin on it,  _felt_ like it had come from there. Link stepped back slowly, and turned away.

He knew what had prevented him from acting on his urges. Every time he had one, an abrupt desire to go explore the places he had come to know so thoroughly, it was met with an equally strong feeling of uneasiness. He would shake off both, and forget it had been there.

This knowledge unsettled the boy, and he again put off his decision to make the journey. Perhaps he should just stay in Skyloft for now. He had a feeling that whatever was drawing him toward the woods was something he shouldn't wake.

He'd been to Faron woods since the end of Demise, so what could possibly have changed to cause this was beyond the hero. But he forced himself to turn a blind eye to it, an inexplicable fear of the unknown bubbling up in him. Whatever it was, he didn't want any part in it. Not again.

In the coming few days, the feeling only began to demand his attention more forcefully.

He distracted himself from it, but it pursued him like an incessant buzz, an itch he couldn't scratch, a need he couldn't meet. The shadow of it followed him into his dreams, but he woke unable to remember what he'd seen. His attention constantly drifted over toward the direction of the woods, just staring into the distance.

"Link! Did you go out exploring like we talked about?"

The boy looked up to see Zelda, realizing he'd been leaning on the fence by the bazaar, gazing off into space.

"Oh- uh- I haven't really yet, there's just been some… other things I wanted to focus on first." He even managed a small smile, hoping to avoid further questioning.

Zelda didn't look entirely convinced, but she nodded slowly. "Alright… well…"

"Hey, Zelda, we're waitin' on ya!"

She looked over at the knights waving and back to Link with a furrowed brow. "Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

He nodded, and she reluctantly started off.

Link looked down at his hands, and his vision swam, a steadily building cacophony of noise clamoring for his attention until he snapped himself out of it.

_I really should go… just for a visit._  He thought.  _But then… maybe there's something out there that wants me to._

"Zelda!"

She stopped walking with the group and turned back to Link, who faced her steadily.

"I'll train with the other knights."

* * *

 

Link walked between the rows of knights running drills. Eagus had joked how he was "practically out of the job" the past couple days. Given the skill of the enemies he had faced, Link didn't realize just how high his own skill was, and comparing it against the knights of the peaceful Skyloft society showed the difference clearly.

He still felt awkward with his replacement blade, and the training hadn't been quite as satisfying as he'd somehow hoped, but it was a good distraction from the pulling force in his thoughts.

He drew his sword and planted his feet. Pipit stepped forward, holding a wooden sword in hand. Link could see the nerves hidden deep in his expression, and he took a deep breath to inspire the same calm in his classmate.

"Remember, you're going to try and get around Link's blocking." Eagus explained.

"The trick is to have a good eye on both my wrist and my blade." Link added, rolling his shoulder. "An enemy with a weapon – which I am acting as - is going to watch your attack directions as well."

"Yeah." Pipit nodded.

Link was swift in his reactions, easily warding off blow after blow. Pipit only landed a few small raps, but it was clear he was tiring long before his partner.

In fact, Link only began to show slight signs of wear after a whole line of fellow knights faced him one-on-one in a variety of drills.

"You sure you're alright, son?" Eagus asked him with a furrowed brow. Link blinked, straightening out of a fighting stance. He'd gotten a bit lost to it all, his mind taking over with reaction after reaction. He'd lost track of how long it'd gone on.

"Yeah, I'm-"

Weariness finally sunk into him with unwelcome familiarity. Not at all as harrowing as the exhaustion he'd faced before, but still there, so easily buried in the face of battle.

"I'm fine."

Eagus and a few of the other knights were still looking at him a bit oddly.

"You don't have time to stop in a real battle." Link murmured, putting his sword away and turning to go, to get out of sight the awed and disturbed looks directed his way.

"He really did face down a bunch of demons, didn't he…" One of the knights whispered as he left.

* * *

 

The next day, Link landed in the parched land of Lanayru, heading toward the figure floating just off the edge of the cliff.

"Link! I had wondered when you would return," the booming voice of the Thunder Dragon greeted him. Link tilted his head questioningly, smiling a bit.

"I knew that surely you wouldn't get used to civilian life so easily. I still have all your battles lined up and ready for you."

Link's face fell a bit, but he didn't want to show it. That was indeed the very reason he was here. He knew there was possibly one place left to put some of his now-seemingly-useless skill set to use again.

"I…" He faltered. "I never liked the fighting, but… apparently it's what I'm good at. I just don't know how else to keep myself moving forward."

The dragon nodded sagely. "You will find that path in time, young hero. But you are wise to act on what you can understand for now. You have become a warrior, and that's a lonely position, but I have faith you will eventually find your peace again. The resolution you seek to your restlessness lies not far away."

Link's brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded.

"Who would you like to face once again?"

"Start from the very beginning." He answered, clenching his fist.

"Very well! That would be Ghirahim, that creepy guy you faced in Skyview Temple."

Link's eyes jumped wide. How could he have forgotten – Ghirahim had indeed been his very first big battle. He tried to protest, but the dragon was already continuing, and the world around Link suddenly disappeared. He blinked, and a room came into focus, dim after the brightness of the desert.

Ghirahim stood facing him in the center of the room, easily standing out in his stark white. Everything seemed to hold still for a long second, the moment frozen, until all at once it came to life. Ghirahim advanced on him, with assured, even steps, his lips curled up at the corners. Link tensed, but his battle instincts weren't kicking in, and he stood stupidly still as his enemy approached. He could only  _stare,_ a sense of surreality locking him in place.

As he got closer Link could see a certain vacancy to the demon's black eyes, missing the spark that indicated that this was little more than a copy, a fake, a creation of the dragon's magic.

Link sucked in a breath, the paralysis that had been binding him abruptly breaking. He had to  _move._ He began to reach for his sword, but Ghirahim frowned, and struck him with the back of his hand before Link could gather his wits.

He reeled to the side, his fingertips pressing into the blooming bruise on his jaw, but even so he kept on his feet and ran far enough to the side to create some distance while he righted himself. His head spun dizzily from the attack, but he drew his sword and stood at the ready anyway as Ghirahim headed for him again, arrogantly slow and nonchalant.

Link felt his forehead break out in a cold sweat. He'd already buried this enemy and his chilling stare the moment he exited that godforsaken dimension Demise created. When he came here today he expected some battles to keep his body busy – he hadn't been looking to dredge up the anger and fear these battles with the demon had wrought within him. He hadn't been prepared by any means to ever set eyes on him again.

"What's the matter, boy? You look ill." Ghirahim spoke in a smooth voice, just as taunting as Link remembered.

Link grit his teeth and gripped his sword tighter. He moved forward and struck with his sword, his eyes widening as Ghirahim caught it. He'd mastered this before – how could he be slipping up so easily?

He yanked the blade away and swung, forcing Ghirahim to leap back. His eyes flickered to the basic academy blade in his hand and he swore internally. He didn't like having to face off even a fake Ghirahim with a blade like this; if his resistance to the Goddess Sword and the Master Sword was so high, defeating him with this would be a challenge.

Ghirahim's eyes narrowed from across the room as he started for him again, his eyes drawn seemingly magnetically to the tip of Link's blade.

Link took in deep breaths.  _It's just a copy,_  he reminded himself.  _But he can still hurt me. I can't fall apart now._  His eyes hardened.  _I won't fall apart in front of him… I won't fall apart because of him._

He stood a little straighter. Apparently this was something he hadn't put to rest within himself. One more battle, then.

He found his rhythm, remembering how to feint and get around Ghirahim's ready hand. The battle waged on longer than it should have, given the simplicity of Link's sword, but he fought fiercely to make up for it. Ghirahim seemed to react to this, attacking more earnestly than Link remembered for that first battle, when Ghirahim had been so calm and aloof in "toying" with him. His fingers twitched nervously. Wasn't this place supposed to be made of his memories?

He stumbled back, a shallow gash on his leg staining his pants red. His shield arm had the beginnings of a bruise, and his back ached. He didn't let his guard down as Ghirahim stepped toward him, licking the blood from his rapier.

"I swear I will send you back to your grave…" Link growled bitterly.

"Will you now…? Are you certain you ever did in the first place?"

Link's eyes widened at the knowing smirk on Ghirahim's face. There's no way he should understand – he just meant that to him, they hadn't had their final battle yet, right? He shook slightly; angry at the way Ghirahim pushed all the  _wrong_ buttons in him.

"You're not real!" He yelled. "You're gone! Dead!"

Ghirahim's face blanked again and he prepared to attack, seemingly back to being the blank imposter he should be, ignoring the boys' distress.

As he rapidly approached, Link struck with a vicious cry and leapt back, leaving Ghirahim standing still and heaving. His skin tingled and thrummed with adrenaline – he'd done it. A gong sounded somewhere in the distance, and Link waited for the scene to fade away.

He gasped as instead Ghirahim rushed him, slamming him against the wall with a fist in the collar of his shirt, his sword clattering from his hand. Ghirahim leaned in close to his ear as he struggled against the iron grip on him.

" _I'll be seeing you again… sky child."_

Link's eyes leapt wide, and all at once he was standing in the bright sunshine of Lanayru again.

"Welcome back!" The dragon greeted him enthusiastically. "Although, perhaps you are a bit more rusty than you thought, that battle took quite some time." He chuckled. "Are you up for continuing?"

Link was looking around him in bewilderment, hardly listening. His heartbeat began to slow, and he rubbed at his chest, lowering his eyes to see his sword in the grass beside him. He crouched to retrieve it, exhaling slowly.

"You didn't… see any of it?"

The dragon regarded him with a quizzical look. "Was there something out of the ordinary?"

The boy blinked. How had that escaped the dragon's notice?

"…No- no." He cleared his throat. "I'm done, though."

"Well, take this, you've earned it. Here you are!" He clapped his claws and awarded Link with a red rupee.

Link drank one of his potions as he walked away to ease the weakness of his limbs, then returned to the sky, circling around the sky for a long while, pointedly avoiding going near the northern sky. His mind felt strangely blank instead of buzzing. A part of him knew he had to face whatever new fate was in store for him, but for the moment, he continued pretending he could leave all of it behind him for good.

He finally landed, going to his room and bundling himself in his blankets.


	3. Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The red thread tightens.

Link woke up in a cold sweat, sitting bolt upright. The reason for this fear trickled away just as soon as he tried to grasp hold of it, and he rubbed his forehead wearily. The night had passed, and dawn was just past breaking. He thought about all the things he'd felt and seen recently, and he sighed deeply.

_I'm probably just… stressing myself out. If I just go and check, I'll see..._

He found himself sitting on the edge of the light tower staring at the green light for hours. But finally, as though moving automatically, Link stood and threw himself off, calling his Loftwing and making a straight line toward the opening.

_I'm only going to visit Fi._ He heard himself say in his head.  _I just need to visit the temple for awhile._

His Loftwing brought him all the way down to the courtyard at the base of the statue that had once been part of Skyloft. The area was bright, quiet, and empty. Link rubbed the cheek of his bird and walked past it, heading toward the great doors. The noise in his head had suddenly calmed, like a roar eased into soft purring.

He pushed open the double doors with a great grating creak, letting more light pour into the worn building. He stood there for a moment as silence returned, taking in the stone walls with its creeping vines, the sunshine streaming through the holes in the ceiling, until his eyes fell on what was directly ahead. The Master Sword still stood there in its pedestal, softly illuminated by the light on it. Link slowly stepped forward and ascended the steps one by one until he stood just at the top, his eyes softening as he looked down at the familiar blade, his gaze lingering there a long while. He hadn't come by here since he'd said goodbye, and knowing the proud blade still rested here alone stirred a twinge of pain. Very few people had come here, actually. He could tell that the space was quite undisturbed, but given that it was one of few buildings on the surface which had begun to be explored by some of the others, that seemed odd. He glanced around again, the space eerily silent. Whatever had drawn him here had gone silent as well, it seemed. He began to turn, as though ready to leave, but he halted, turning back again. This time, he looked directly at the doors behind the sword, doors that obscured the back of the temple from him, and the calm that came from his examination of the seemingly normal temple gave way to the prickling dread over his skin again. Hadn't the doors been opened last he was here?

His heart seized in a slow squeeze, that desire to step forward and open the doors rescinded by an equally strong urge to just turn and walk away. It was the same sense his dreams before the day of the Wing Ceremony had given him – something big was about to change.

The compulsions, the restlessness, the unnamed fear, the visions, the things he'd seen in that mock battle… all of it condensed into what Link suddenly knew he would see behind these doors. It was enough to make him want to shove it away, to ignore it, to run away from some other destiny that was trying to force itself upon him – hadn't he been through enough? But he couldn't turn away. He couldn't not know for sure.

Blood rushed to his ears as he reached out to the doors and grasped his fingers into the seam, his heart beating wildly. He pulled, and the doors slid apart.

The grating sound of the doors opening rang in Link's ears as his eyes fell on the prone shape of a man lying at the far side of the room. His limbs felt weighed down with dread as his mind screamed rejections at what he was seeing. No, no, no, surely not, not now-

He slowly took in the dark metal skin, the white hair, the broken red center, his mind registering a form that was unmistakable, but so surreal he could only stare as though he expected it to flicker out of existence any second.

There, flat on his back on the stone floor, lay  _Ghirahim_.

It was a sight so strange, this proud, malevolent figure laying quiet and still before him in plain sight, an abrupt scene so wildly out of place.

Silence settled again, and Link hardly dared to breathe. He remained as still as a cornered rabbit, and Ghirahim seemed as a motionless corpse.

Link's first instinct was to prepare a defense. Despite Ghirahim's lifeless appearance, the danger alarms were in full gear in his head. But he couldn't move, the shock of simply setting eyes on him again at all had Link reeling for reasons he couldn't begin to give full thought to. The day prior, he'd practically seen his ghost back to life before him. Seeing him now as no copy or fabrication was too much.

A full minute passed and nothing stirred.

Ghirahim hadn't reacted to his appearance in the slightest. Though Link wasn't inclined to let his guard down, and once again became painfully aware of the lack of a good sword he had at his disposal - unless the Master Sword would somehow allow him to pull it again, which he highly doubted. All he had was the simple academy blade, and he'd seen how effective  _that_ had been yesterday.

Link finally began to step forward, cringing at the taps his boots made on the hard floor. He carefully made his way through the room, edging closer and closer. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears, readying him to leap away at the smallest sign of danger.

He could see the demon clearly now, his eyes closed and his body defying any movement. His chest was a mangled, shattered sight that transfixed Link. Where his silver diamond had so neatly presented itself was now broken into a raw red that mimicked blood, as though the front of Ghirahim's chest had been torn open and his core was visible now. The metal-like skin was cracked and damaged in a circular radius from the central break, though the rest of his skin remained unmarred.

Link stopped where he was. Surely the spirit wasn't dead, or he wouldn't be here – though where he'd come from Link didn't know. How could he possibly be alive - hadn't he seen the sword vanish? And why here? How had he made his way back to the temple, to the  _present-_ why had he stopped where he was? Link's eyes scanned the damage on the other. Perhaps he  _was_  dead. Maybe he had made it just far enough.

With his mind racing, Link's skin felt clammy with fear. He was only a couple feet away from this enemy, surrounded by uncertainty, and with a weapon unsuited to fighting this being - even though the demon seemed in no state to do so, the situation didn't appeal to the hero.

The continued silence added both calm and anxiety to the atmosphere. Link felt compelled forward, driven by a sudden curiosity and simply a need to do something, anything, to break this odd standoff. He eased himself the rest of the way to the side of the demon, then slowly crouched enough to reach his hand out as he scuffed his boots forward along the stone, fingertips tentative as they touched to the skin of Ghirahim's shoulder.

The metallic surface was hard to the touch, and Link remembered how the Master Sword had been reduced to little more than a clanging bat against this body. It was strange, being able to analyze his enemy at such a close proximity without it being surrounded by the stress of a battle in progress.

He trailed his fingers wonderingly across the unusual texture of the demon's arm, and he realized that he had yet to receive a response. He paused, trying to talk himself out his curiosities, but he couldn't help it; his fingers were drawn toward the damaged core and its vivid red.

His fingertips just barely brushed along it, and Link gasped at the sudden sensation of life, of heat, of power - and at the same time the chest below his hand abruptly heaved a ragged breath.

He jerked back, stumbling backwards to his feet to put some space between them. He quickly drew a plain dagger from his pouch, rather than reaching for the sword on his back. His eyes had jumped wide and a chill had jolted through him, but in seconds he was composed and at the ready. Ghirahim hadn't changed except for the slow, shuddering breaths he seemed to be able to just barely take in, the sound of it as though he were being throttled. Link waited for his heartbeat to continue to slow, letting the seconds pass until it was again clear Ghirahim seemed inclined to remain still.

He felt the hilt of the dagger in his hand and he lifted it, slowly casting his eyes down to the blade. He remembered his anger, the harsh fire that seethed in his core as Ghirahim had appeared again, and again, and again, so determined to take everything away from Link. Any rational caution, calm curiosity, and sense of pity for this damaged creature abruptly drained out of the hero as he gripped the small blade tightly. It obviously wasn't nearly as powerful as the Master Sword, but Ghirahim was all but exposing his very heart before Link, the vulnerable centerpiece baring its shattered self in its entirety. Even if it weren't permanent until he had a more powerful weapon, one solid stab would likely be all he needed to render the apparently alive demon all but dead.

He wanted to end this for good.

Link stepped forward, his eyes dark as he looked down at the broken body of his enemy. He carefully knelt, eyeing Ghirahim's face only a moment before focusing on the showing crimson of his inner body. The knife twirled in his hand, pointing its sharp tip down. He slowly brought his other hand to meet the one already wrapped around its hilt, and began to raise it above his head, his breath feeling hard and solid in his chest. He used his anger as a focal point, a centralized force to concentrate the power and aim of his hands. He clutched at it as his guiding reason, his motivation, his  _justification_  for such an outright act of violence.

" _Are you… going to kill me… sky… child…?"_

The deep voice, tinged with a robotic echo, forced itself with strained air from the lips of the demon, which slowly turned up as Link froze. He didn't look at his face. He didn't move at all. Hearing him speak again, real and truly as himself, struck Link more forcefully than he would have expected. It only shoved the reality of his being  _still alive_ that much more harshly at the hero.

" _Such a dark action… for the bright spirit… that inhabits you…"_

He laughed, soft and choking, and Link clenched, the blade slowly lowering only slightly.

" _Go on and do it, then… so I don't waste my breath… on you."_

Link looked at the demon's face then. His eyes were still closed, but his expression clenched slightly – perhaps in pain. The lingering traces of his smirk fell off his lips, and a few seconds later, his white eyes slowly opened to look at Link. He still didn't know what to say. He didn't know why he hesitated at all.

" _This is no time… for cowardice… child… it's insulting,"_ the demon ground out, his breath rattling emptily as he forced air into him.

Link tensed again, raising the blade up suddenly as if to slam it down right then. But he again halted, his eyebrows furrowing with uncertainty.

" _Unless… you waver… in your convictions."_ Ghirahim's voice had a hint of his smug tone back, his hands crawling up to grip at his mutilated chest.

"…I have no choice," Link responded quietly, a bitter hint to his tone. His voice felt hoarse, like it didn't belong to him as he tried to voice his thoughts. "I can't just let you go. Not after I fought so hard to save this world from you." He lowered the blade and looked at Ghirahim fully in the eye. "Yes, you. Because Demise would have never been a battle for me without you."

Ghirahim coughed out a laugh that gained strength, which surprised Link for some reason, glaring with anger and confusion.

" _Oh, sky child… you know… so little."_ He heaved in another empty breath, closing his eyes again.

"Then tell me. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you." Link demanded, his eyes hard and alight with blue fire.

" _I'm hardly… the best choice… of a moral compass…"_ Ghirahim replied, even managing to sound a hint amused.

Link faltered, unsure how to proceed from here. His logic told him this is what he should do; he shouldn't spare this being any more mercy than he had been shown. But seeing even Ghirahim in such a state made it very hard to just ram a knife into him in cold blood. It didn't feel right.

" _Where oh where has all that cold anger gone…"_ Ghirahim whispered, his fingertips scraping softly against the stone he laid on, not quite making fists.

"I'm not like you. I don't kill things on a whim." Link replied immediately, his eyes hardening for that brief moment until they dimmed again slightly. "I don't kill even because something deserves it…"

" _Still such a soft boy…"_ Ghirahim sucked in another ragged breath. " _Well… whilst you deliberate… I'll just remain here in my agony, shall I?"_

Link threw a frown at the spirit. Even now, the hero noted, it seemed he worked to manipulate Link's emotions.

" _I could… speed this little process along… by noting you couldn't bear to kill me… I can already tell your resolve is so weak."_ He again fixated his blank eyes on the boy, an accusing stare than made Link's skin crawl.

"So what do you expect me to do? Save your life after everything you did, only to probably have to fight you again?"

Ghirahim laughed, the sound slow and heaving. " _You… save my life… pitiful…"_ He got his breath again. " _I would rather you kill me."_

Link made a small, irked noise, looking away and gripping the dagger in his hand. The air got thicker with a new kind of standoff for a long moment.

"How are you alive at all?" Link finally asked, looking back to the spirit. "I thought I saw your sword break."

Ghirahim smirked, closing his eyes. " _Hmph. Demise was dying… so we were no longer bound, and I abandoned him. I had pre-arranged a spell… to take me back through the gate should you succeed in battle. But I couldn't go far after that, injured as I am… I made it here… and I've been waiting… ever since."_

"I felt it." Link blurted. Ghirahim's eyes opened and stared him down, and he frowned. "I… I could sense that there was… something. Did you do that on purpose?"

Ghirahim only hummed up at the ceiling.

Link eyed the ever-cryptic demon, his gaze lingering on his chest. "…Are you dying?"

He inhaled in a deep hollow rattle. " _No."_ One more inhale. " _But I haven't the means… to heal myself… and self destruction is not in my nature."_

Link's grip tightened on the dagger. So that left it up to him, then? His instinct told him that he had to do this, that Ghirahim was far too dangerous to be left alive. But his compassionate nature stayed his hand, along with something else… something he couldn't place, a feeling he didn't understand – the same feeling that stirred sadness in him at the sight of Demise's cruelty to the spirit, and fixated his attention on the black blade as they had fought. The same feeling that had existed long before that even; an inexplicable grip that made his heart lurch at the appearance of the demon, that rooted Link in place under the hands of his dramatics.

_We're bound, you and I._

He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "What can I do?"

He didn't realize how much he wanted to ask until the words tumbled out on their own, shoving past his conflict of doing the right thing and replacing it with this quite frankly irresponsible indulgence of his curiosity.

Ghirahim looked over at him, his expression darkly amused. " _What's this…? Has the hero found his compassion at last?"_

Link frowned, clenching his hands. "Stop playing around and just… tell me."

" _Since you've drawn this out… by your adorable little internal conflict over ending me… there is one thing you can do…"_

Link looked at him warily, uncertain where the demon could possibly be going, which Ghirahim seemed to enjoy for a few seconds before continuing.

" _I have a proposition for you…"_

The human boy didn't quite like the sound of that, his eyes narrowing. "…I'm listening."

Ghirahim abruptly began to sit up, and Link immediately pointed the knife at the demon's core. Ghirahim stopped, frowning at Link for a long moment until the boy slowly retracted the blade and allowed him to continue, getting himself fully sitting with one hand still grasping at his chest, the other holding his weight on the floor beside him. He took a moment to recover from this exertion before lifting his head to fixate on Link again.

" _You… have lost your sword."_

Link's eyebrows quirked with a frown, trying to decipher what Ghirahim was getting at.

" _And I… have lost my master."_ He finished, his lips turning up with a slow smirk.

It took a long moment, but Link's eyes suddenly filled with dread alongside understanding. "No. No. That's… that's ridiculous."

Ghirahim grimaced as he shifted further forward, holding himself on one knee as though determined to escape the grip of death by simply walking away from it, his voice gaining some strength. " _Yes, it is."_

"You're suggesting I take  _you_ as my... sword? I don't understand what that will do."

" _Let me elucidate this as simply as possible… if you draw my sword for me and are recognized as my master… I can take refuge inside, and you will repair it… using the red flame at the volcano summit. I will heal, and I will have a new master… which I require. And you… will again wield a powerful sword, one you should be honored to possess. That is what I am suggesting."_

Link thought for a moment, trying to wrap his head around wielding Ghirahim's black blade – how could he possibly explain this to Zelda? How could  _he_  possibly live with whatever this would mean for him?

"What happens if I don't take your… offer?"

_"Then spare me your oh-so tragic uncertainty and put a knife in my chest."_

Link took a breath. "And… what happens if I do?"

The demon eyed him steadily.  _"As you may recall, I am… intensely loyal. And… I suppose… we will see where that red thread leads us."_ Before Link could react to that, Ghirahim abruptly tensed, grimacing and heaving a ragged breath. _"I don't have the energy… to work out the finer details with you. So find it in you to kill me with some dignity, or take up my sword."_

Link shook his head a few times, just rejecting the situation in general, his hesitancy in having to make such a choice.

" _Damn it, child!"_

Link did not expect the sudden outburst, and less so the way the demon suddenly lunged his weight forward, pining Link down with his chest overtop the boys' and his hand pressing against his collarbone, the other hand stopping Link from reacting with the dagger - not that it would do much without managing to get in between their torsos. The human could only stare up in shock at the demon who glared down at him with contempt in his white eyes, his teeth gritted in pain but forcibly resisting it, his rough voice filled with seething venom.

" _Do not treat me like a criminal begging for release from death row while you so easily try to judge me in a way to not offend your own morality... I have neither the patience nor the humility to allow you such a luxury of deliberating your sensibilities. Your pretty goddess might have painted the world so black and white in a roadmap for you, but you seem to have neglected being taught that your enemies she pitted you against have complex agendas of their own. You offend my existence as a living thing and my nature as a sword by putting both my life and my offer into something you can take the time to make a decision in based merely on how you feel about it."_

He grabbed Link's free hand and placed the palm firmly against the ruins of his chest, and Link gasped at the electric energy that abruptly coursed through him in a sudden pulse again before it dimmed, reflecting the life, but also damaged nature of the being.

" _Act, Link. Drive in the dagger or summon my blade."_

He let go of Link's other wrist and brought the tip of the dagger to his chest.

" _This is not about making a choice."_

Link's head was reeling as he tried to process it all, tried to shove past the guilt – because that's what Ghirahim was trying to say, that despite his actions, his pride in his being demanded Link treat him with the respect of not putting his life in his hands, especially basing it on his own emotions. This spirit sought to preserve his dignity whilst also ending his suffering in the only ways he knew how, both of which apparently required Link's cooperation. This was how Link tried to understand it, at least.

Sense told him this was risky. But a compulsion beyond what mere consideration of his options could have brought on him moved his hand instead.

He dropped the knife, gently pressing in with his other palm, and the demon's chest began to glow.

He didn't know if it was a question of morality anymore, he didn't know what the correct factors to consider were. He didn't know what this so-called  _fate_  that bound them meant, or what it would bring. But he knew he couldn't kill him. He couldn't bury him and quietly return to that restless life amongst the people he stood not quite belonging to now. He had to understand - for his own sake. Because for all the anger, and hate, and fear this demon had wrought, Link now understood the sensation he'd had at first setting eyes on him in this room, a feeling so out of place it hadn't a name amid the rational emotions that clamored for his attention…  _relief._

Ghirahim pulled back to his knees as the hilt of his sword burst from his chest, and Link sat up quickly and braced himself to pull it from its sheath in the body of the spirit. He drew it slowly and steadily, unlike the horrible ripping Demise had done, carefully rising to his feet as he did so. The great black blade finally freed itself, Link having to step back to clear it completely. The tip threatened to bang to the floor without its holding place to keep it aloft, but Link caught it just in time, barely clutching the gigantic sword with both hands.

An abrupt dark energy coursed through the metal Link was gripping and he gasped in surprise, almost dropping the blade, but it seemed almost affixed to his hands. He automatically rebelled against the invisible feeling that seemed to be entering at his palms, traveling along his arms and toward his core.

The blade was bathed in a blinding red glow now, and Link shut his eyes, trying to make sense of the barrage of sensations.

" _Link… do you claim me as your sword?"_

Ghirahim's voice was low, but firm. The blade's aura had Link second-guessing this course of action deeply, but no rejection came from his lips as he carefully reopened his eyes. With Fi, he'd felt a vague thrumming the moment he took up her sword. But this… this was an entity spreading inside him, something vast and alive and foreign that he couldn't grasp. But he couldn't back out now. There was something he needed, some answer or incomplete part of him that drew him to this, and he had to know. He slowly nodded, feeling the shift in himself as the motion conveyed a true mental acceptance. The internal presence abruptly swelled, making Link clench, but then it abated. In the moment before Ghirahim was swathed in the same red light as the blade, Link could have sword he saw him smirk.

" _Recognition complete. You are my master… Master Link."_

When the light faded, Ghirahim had disappeared into the blade, and as fast as it had happened, everything was still.

A few moments later, Link sunk to his knees with a groan, holding his head with his hand. The blade lowered to the ground, and Link sat there for a long while, breathing, trying to regather himself and figure out what had just happened.

He finally opened his eyes and regarded the weapon he still held. It was chilling, seeing it so close to him, his mind jumping back to that unearthly dimension where he'd clashed with it, and felt its bite firsthand. It was surreal, seeing the hilt in his own hand.

It was also incredibly terrifying as the weight of what he'd just done sunk into him.

The dark energy that he'd felt when first holding the blade was still there, albeit more subtle, lurking beneath his skin. He stared at the malevolent blade in shock, unbelieving that he had just agreed to save Ghirahim's life – and be his  _master?_ He turned his head to see the Master Sword past the doorway, recalling the feeling of Fi's constant presence when he'd been her master, and abruptly felt sick to his stomach. He rebelled against the presence in his mind, recoiling from any contact with it and locking it away.

What was he supposed to do about this now? He idly considered options to get around his choice, but he knew there was nothing else for it.

He was just going to have to face his decision and go through with his promise to the end, whatever it meant.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting closer to the sections already posted on tumblr... I will hopefully have the next few parts written soon, and then new readers will get a whole flood of chapters before I continue having to write the following parts. Reviews...?


	4. Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link now has the task of repairing Ghirahim’s blade ahead of him, and Ghirahim gets a first glimpse at what is to be life with his new master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory author apology for the wait! I've been way outside my normal life routine lately so it's been a bit difficult to work on this as quickly as I hoped. I wanted to have this done for the ghiralink week hosted on tumblr back in the beginning of June, but I only just finally wheedled myself through this part. Ah well, it's always ghiralink week to me anyway. So, at long last, here is the latest chapter!

_If you draw my sword for me and are recognized as my master… I can take refuge inside, and you will repair it… using the red flame at the volcano summit._

Link immediately realized he had a problem when he tried to stand and could barely heft the sword. It was quite obviously not designed for a human to wield; Demise had towered at twice Link’s height, and the sword was practically the size of the hero. His heart sunk slightly. Had he taken this on only to end up with having a wall decoration and a malevolent spirit lurking around him? 

He returned to Skyloft to gather some materials, almost anxiously hurrying back to the temple where the blade waited; he found it unsettling to leave it alone like that, but he hadn't the means to carry it. He would use what he brought back to hopefully rectify that. 

Best he could hope for as far as a sheath was wrapping it in sturdy cloth. The ferociously sharp tips threatened to rip through, but it would be protected enough. He used belts to wrap around two sides of it and another attached to those that he could slip over his torso, and when tested it seemed inclined to be able to stay on his back. 

For all the heavy stress he was under, he still had the instincts to do what he needed to take care of himself. After he finished his task he sat on the steps, leaving the wrapped sword a-ways behind him, allowing himself to calm and start to decompress from the recent events. When the knots in his stomach began to unwind, he remembered the meal he had the sense to think to bring back with him, and ate in silent contemplation. While some dusk and the evening hours remained ahead, there wasn’t enough light to think of traveling very far. Even if his bird got him there before dark, he would have to spend the night at the volcano, and that didn’t appeal to him. Neither did leaving the blade alone, for whatever reason. A night at the Temple of Hylia it was, then.  
  
Link paced the stone floor, wandering his thoughts. Everything felt like questions. Ghirahim had seemed so dismissive of their past history of sorts, like it didn't matter. If he had been flippant toward Link's feelings of him, that the hero would have understood, taking it as the demon's cold and malevolent attitude. But entirely dismissive? And cryptic on top of that, like jeering at something he knew Link didn't. And he wondered if he could really rely on that loyalty… he couldn't imagine Ghirahim ever referring to Link in the obsessively obedient way he had been with Demise. He rubbed his temples. What if this was some kind of trick just to get some sort of revenge, or... well, who knows what else the spirit could be thinking. The boy looked back to the blade, which felt like it was watching him think from across the room, and sighed. Some instinct told him that wasn't the case, but he wished he could place just how he knew that. 

He didn't even want to yet begin to tackle the problem of telling any of his fellow Skyloftians... especially Zelda or Groose. 

The long night had to pass eventually, Link finally finding sleep, wanting to get all the rest he could to be ready for whatever could be ahead. It was an oddly familiar feeling, forcing sleep even when worry jostled him awake. He had hoped he would never have to find sleep despite such stress again.

* * *

With the next day beginning came Link calling for his Loftwing with a piercing whistle. The great red bird came to the grass beside him, ruffling his feathers and examining Link with great, intelligent eyes. He made a soft hissing noise at the item Link had slung across his back, and Link rubbed the bird's beak to soothe him. The boy adjusted the strap and climbed up onto his faithful companion's back, and they took off toward Eldin.

It was a long flight to the top of the mountain, but not nearly as long or difficult as it would have been on foot or skydiving. They spiraled down into the courtyard of sorts, landing on the platform before the steps to the inner temple of the Fire Sanctuary. Link dismounted, patting the red bird on the neck. He was met with a lingering solemn gaze before the Loftwing took back to the skies, and he couldn't help but feel like that was a look that said _I hope you know what you're doing_.

Steeling himself, he approached the grand doors, and they swung open slowly with a protest from the hinges. He entered the inner chamber cautiously, and the doors slammed shut behind him. The room was quiet and still, untouched since last he had been here. Which, he realized with a slight startle, had been the second time he had battled Ghirahim. He paused hesitantly, glancing around the space, then tentatively continued through it. He passed a small bloodstain, and some scratches and indents pointed tips had etched on the floor, but looked away quickly. 

He reached the second set of doors, pausing to take a breath before he entered the room housing Din’s Flame. 

The red fire glowed with an unnatural light, dancing it its pedestal the same as Link remembered. When he first came here, Fi had tempered the Goddess Whitesword with the power of the flame, filling it with light and finally transforming it into the Master Sword. Link carefully pulled the demon blade off his back and rested it on the floor while he slowly removed the wrappings that kept it contained. As he worked he realized he didn’t know what exactly what was supposed to happen. How was this flame supposed to repair this sword? If this flame was a goddess power, could it really help a weapon of demons?

He finished unwrapping it and sat back on his heels, contemplating the black metal for a long moment. He reached out and put his hand on the hilt, and a sudden flash snapped his attention up, realizing the flame had jumped up in size as it had when it reacted to his presence last time. The sword began to pulse the orange-like hue that matched the color it took when it absorbed Ghirahim’s presence, and Link slowly lifted it, presenting it to the flame. The color of the sword grew in intensity, and Link squinted to see, barely keeping the sword aloft with both hands, his gloves protecting the palm that had to hold onto the side. 

The flames abruptly leapt toward the sword like attracted by some force from the metal, the spheres of red light bursting into flashes of diamond patterns as they made contact. The repeated impacts had Link almost driven to his knees as he struggled to hold the weapon aloft. 

The sword held onto the flames once the onslaught had passed, and Link examined it tentatively. The color licking along the metal undulated into orange and deep crimson before finally assuming the endless black of the blade itself. The black flames were nothing short of eerie, and Link gripped the handle nervously. The light abruptly burst again, making Link flinch, and when he peeked again he could see the light appeared to have shattered into small fragments hovering around the sword he held, slowly disappearing. Link realized the sword was now much lighter, and his eyes filled with awe.

What the tempering had left was the blade now much better suited to the size of the human who wielded it. 

The surface was once again flawless, without a single scratch or chip or spot of dullness. It shone with a mirror-like quality despite the deep obsidian surface. The swordsman hefted the renewed weapon, feeling the new weight, the perfect grip his hand had on the handle. It was every bit suited to his hand as the Master Sword had ever been. There was something else though, something that made him uneasy to grasp it, made that perfect control he wielded with his blade not feel quite right. 

Link gingerly laid the sword back in the cloth to recreate the makeshift sheath, going still when it was done, his hands resting on the covered blade to support him slightly as he closed his eyes and breathed. It was done. He’d repaired Ghirahim’s blade. So what was he supposed to do now?

He opened his eyes and stared at the hilt that still showed, then on an impulse put his hand on it. Ghirahim hadn’t appeared yet… had this been enough to heal him? He felt a faint energy touch his palm where he’d placed his hand, and he frowned, trying to concentrate on it. But as soon as he did he felt it slowly begin to grow, and he jerked his hand away in alarm. 

Something in him now understood that Ghirahim was indeed alive, somewhere in his dwelling. He looked down to his hand with a puzzled frown, not liking the way he didn’t understand, again, how he just somehow _knew_ this. 

With no other sign of action from the sword, Link again rested it across his back, and made the flight back to Skyloft, alighting quietly beside the academy and quickly slipping inside to lock himself in his room.

* * *

 

A whole day passed with nothing from the sword. It remained quiet and still, as though lost in slumber. Link examined it occasionally, but nothing seemed to be wrong aside from that it wouldn't react. He left it to its healing, and tried to distract himself. Thankfully, no one came to check up on him, and he left his room as little as possible while he waited for the sword to wake.

The next day, he lazily managed to drag himself from bed and first thing examined the blade, finding nothing unusual again. Link donned his tunic and absently ate breakfast before sitting at his desk, attempting to read but barely absorbing the words. The morning passed quiet and slow. Link rested his cheek on his hand and closed his eyes, tapping his fingers on the table surface.

Off to his side, the sword took on an orange glow.

Ghirahim materialized in the center of the room, his skin again pale and unmarred, his mantle draped perfectly about his shoulders. 

Link’s brow twitched and furrowed, his eyes opening as his attuned ears had picked up on the very faint shimmery noise behind him. All at once he knew what it meant and he was on his feet, his chair scraping loudly backward as he whipped around and assumed an immediate fight-or-flight position. 

Ghirahim was glancing around him with a vaguely disinterested expression at his bare surroundings.His eyes came to rest lazily on the tensed-up boy who glared back with focused intensity.

The demon raised a brow with a hint of a smirk. "Your room, I’m assuming?” He cast his eyes again over toward the bed, then the desk before settling back on where Link stood beside the chair with fists clenched. "Hmph. Well, well, is the chosen hero really just a measly schoolboy after all? I can't say I'm surprised, but I'll admit I had some hope that you would be more... interesting behind-the-scenes."

Link still assumed his trademark silence, his gaze unwavering.

Ghirahim sighed dramatically. "Oh, honestly, is the look really necessary? I do prefer at least some semblance of civility, and I put up with your incessant rudeness for far too long as it is." He pulled at his white gloves, appearing to pay close attention to the act. "Unless that's just the attitude you will choose to wield me with... _Master_." His eyes flicked up with a dark smirk, and Link's expression broke, noticeably taken aback. The reaction gave the spirit a measure of satisfaction, and he chuckled under his breath.

“You’re… healed.” Link blurted, his assessing part of his brain catching up with him and his notice of Ghirahim’s reverting to the form Link was most familiar with, complete with immaculate clothing and pristine skin, had jumped to the front of his mind.

Ghirahim gave his other hand the same aloof inspection. “So I have.” He clenched his fingers in a graceful curl. “Back to perfect condition and full strength.”

Link’s eyes flicked automatically toward Ghirahim’s blade to the side of him and back, and the demon’s lips twitched in a smirk.

“ _Stunning,_ isn’t it?” He waved his hand, and the sword came to hover beside him. “I am unique on a level you probably could not understand, little as you know of this world and the expanses of magic that exist.”

Link was staring at the sword, mesmerized. “It looks kind of different now…” he murmured.

Ghirahim shrugged. “I need to be of proper use to you, hmm?”

The boy snapped out of his reverie, his awed eyes instantly hardening. “You… you shouldn’t be of _use_ to me at all. You shouldn’t be here.” The abrupt venom in his tone was startling to himself, but he did not break his angry gaze, his fists tightening again.

Even so, the spirit simply raised a brow, and bent his wrist so his fingertips touched his brow, shaking his head with a long-suffering sigh. “Foolish boy. I have every right to the ground I walk on. After all, it was by your actions that I am standing where I am right now at all. Are you really still so fixated on the past? Despite these decisions you’ve made? How hypocritical.”

“Are _you_ really going to be so _indifferent_ to the past?” Link retorted.

“Yes.” Ghirahim returned smoothly, standing straight. 

The boy blinked a few times, his tense stance loosening. “…How?” He said, his voice suddenly a bit quieter. “How can you?”

“What good would it do me? You are no longer in my way, and hanging on to such a petty grudge would be a waste of energy.” 

Link continued to stare at him, and Ghirahim laughed. “Are you expecting me to grovel an apology? I have nothing to ask for pardon from, despite what you believe. I care little for what you think of me.” He waved a hand dismissively. “But no matter. You see, I do hope you overcome your adorable internal debating, hero… but for your sake. There’s no take-backs, you see.” He grinned slowly, a charming, disturbing smile, his hand spreading palm-up and the edge of it sweeping to touch his middle as he lowered into a bow, not breaking eye contact. “We are bound for the duration of fate itself. I am now yours, entirely.”

Link sucked in a breath. Reality washed over him in a dizzying wave. Everything became stiflingly still, and Ghirahim didn’t say anything else to break the smothering atmosphere. 

Angry words jumped to mind, wanting to yell, scream with frustration that he didn't _want_ it, he didn't want to own another inhabited blade - or rather, the responsibility that came with it. He didn't want another destiny. But the words died in his throat as he looked at the demon before him, replaced by a sudden black desire to grab hold of the great blade itself and ram it mercilessly through Ghirahim's chest.  
  
That thought alone was enough to alarm the boy, but he was more alarmed when the blade swung toward him and his hand was abruptly gripping the hilt.  
  
He blinked down at the sword and up at Ghirahim, startled out of his anger. Ghirahim was eyeing him with an enigmatic glint to his dark irises, a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. 

“Such animosity you still foster, child.” He said with some admonishment. 

That knowing tone made Link tense harshly.  “You did try to kill me, my best friend, and bring about the end of the world.”

Ghirahim shrugged. “Hmph… I don’t feel the need to explain myself to you.”

Link looked away, clenching his hands. He didn’t want to let his emotions get the better of him now. Besides… if what Ghirahim said was true… he had a point. Keeping a grudge would be nothing but exhausting. Whatever the demon was holding back, he wouldn’t give it up now.

Link slowly relaxed, feeling his deep-set weariness spreading through his limbs again, though he tried to keep it from showing.

“Alright-”

He was interrupted by a knock at the door, making him jump slightly. His eyes flickered to the door and then to the amused look on Ghirahim’s face. 

“You- you have to hide.”

Ghirahim raised a brow. “Now now… still keeping me like a dirty little secret, are you? I’m a bit insulted, really.”

“Just- shut up, and don’t let anyone see you!” Link hissed impatiently, holding up the blade.

Ghirahim flipped a hand. “As you wish, Master…” He hummed, melting into orange light that returned to the sword in Link’s hand. 

He quickly stashed the sword under the bed and nervously opened the door. 

“Hey, Link- I was wondering if you’d come back yet.” Zelda greeted him with a soft smile. “I heard last you were seen, you were flying toward Faron. So you finally took that trip, huh?”

Link blinked a few times, gathering his wits. “I… yeah, I- I did.” He nodded.

“And are you feeling any better…?” She tilted her head. “You look tired...” 

He rubbed his lips together, his thoughts leaping to the hidden sword. “Zelda, I…” He exhaled slowly. 

“…Don’t worry. I’m fine.” 


	5. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link falls headfirst into an internal conflict he feels won't be going away so soon - and Ghirahim's easy yet infuriatingly cryptic comments really only make it worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last at last! Okay I honestly do want to give a heartfelt apology for this long wait, I did not anticipate it whatsoever. I had been on such a fast pace and I was very confident I could keep it up, but alas, my life had different plans. I've had simply no energy to give on this crucial section and it's been killing me, I've felt incomplete not writing for so long. But to make up for it, I have a whole lot to post for you guys! Three whole and hearty chapters to dig into are ready. I'm about caught up to the middle areas I had already completed so I reeeaally really hope this will get moving back on that fast pace it had once been. Okay, I won't waste any more time with talking. Thank you all for your patience and kind reviews! I hope you enjoy, and I hope it's worth the wait!

Link didn’t want to turn around and enter another conversation with Ghirahim. He felt too wrung out, and he was completely unwilling to exude the energy that it would require. He took a deep breath and stepped out, sitting in a chair hidden in the alcove by the stairs. 

The lie, or at least the withholding of information from Zelda, weighed on him, but the weight wasn’t from guilt. She kept acting like they could return to every bit of the friends they had been before this, but Link was finding more and more things that created a gap between them. Especially when it came to this stuff… because the more he thought about the situation, the more tired he became as he realized that this wasn’t some secret he was keeping from his best friend. This was “enemy” intel the hero was keeping from the goddess.

But he wished it could be as simple as something that was just between them.

He wished he could peek into her room, and sit next to her, pull his knees to his chest, and mumble about the nightmares he’d had – and she would sigh, and push his hair out of the way, and take his hand firmly and tell him that it was okay because she was going to chase off all the monsters… exactly what had happened so many times in their childhood.

But they weren’t kids, and these weren’t just nightmares, and the responsibility of monster-hunting had been placed heavily on Link by Zelda herself. Not to mention these monsters were ones he’d let into his head; how was he supposed to explain that to her?

He stood and paced into the classroom, looking out the window at the endless expanse of blue sky outside and he tried to let himself relax, reaching for the lazy, at-ease part of himself that was so much his identity before.

But he couldn’t shake off the sense that ahead existed a hell that he had chosen.

* * *

After awhile of zoning out, he stood in front of his bedroom door and took a breath to steel himself, turning the handle slowly. Ghirahim was easily spotted, as he was lying back on Link’s bed, his arm over his face.

Link balked at the sight, carefully regathering himself enough to completely enter the room and close the door, opening the cabinet to place his effects inside; hat, gloves, pouches.

“So… I take it you didn’t make any happy announcements during your outing, hm?”

Link stopped in place with his hands on the cabinet doors, his back still to Ghirahim. He didn’t answer.

“Not that it’s much consequence to me, but I am curious; just when do you plan on telling them?”

Link exhaled through his nose and turned his face to the side. “When I have the ability to explain myself. I don’t trust you to where I can… can defend you enough to reassure them.”

“That’s a lie.”

Link tensed noticeably. He slowly turned himself around, hands fisting at his sides. “…What?”

Ghirahim was still lying there but now had one leg up, ankle propped against the opposite knee, his arms behind his head, looking casually up at the ceiling. His mantle, Link suddenly noticed, was draped over the back of the desk chair. He certainly had made himself at home.

“I’m not sure if your attempts at denial with me is more irritating or embarrassing at this point.”

“I don’t know what would make you believe I trust you.”

Ghirahim turned his head to the side to face Link, an expression of amusement so plain on his face Link drew back in uncertainty.

“Link.”

“…What?”

“Answer something for me, hm? Where are we?”

“Uh… my room…?”

“Which is located where, exactly?”

“On… Skyloft.”

“Tell me something, dear child… if you don’t trust me, why have you brought me directly to the center of your rather defenseless people’s homeland? Which, might I add, is actually an area I am unable to breach on my own without some extreme magic.”

Link stared at Ghirahim with his eyes slowly widening, a shiver running from his head to his toes. He hadn’t even _considered_ the fact that there was any danger in this – he’d only wanted to return to some form of comfort and avoid suspicion from a long absence… he’d really only been preoccupied with making sure Ghirahim wasn’t seen, not with keeping him from being a threat.

“I- I- well- it’s just- it’s not like-“ Link stuttered.

Ghirahim scoffed and sat up, crossing his legs. “The problem is not that you don’t trust me.” He raised a brow and Link glowered at him. “The problem is that you do trust me, and _that_ is what you don’t want to explain to your unsuspecting little friends.”

Link took a short breath, his face flickering through different emotions before he settled on a frown. “Don’t act like you know me so well.”

Ghirahim laughed at that, stinging the seething boy. He gracefully unfolded his legs and got to his feet, stepping toward Link. “Oh, it’s not an act. You humans think you’re so complicated, but it’s not that hard to pull you apart once I find the correct thread...”

“I doubt you know much about humans at all.” Link replied defensively, an uncharacteristic spite in his voice that irritated him with its foreign feel.

Again, the demon laughed. “Why is that, hmm? Because I am a demon, a spirit? You may find this difficult to believe, but I have endlessly more ability to understand you than your previous dull, robotic companion.” He scoffed in derision, and Link startled slightly. “She was programmed just as _Her Grace_ wanted a servant; completely subservient, unable to think for herself or feel for her charge, all about _the mission, the purpose_ of her creation. Any emotion she exuded was all to the manipulative Hylia’s aims; a logical response to elicit the emotional reaction she _wanted_ from _you_.” Ghirahim sighed, pushing his hair back. “ _I,_ however, am entirely the opposite. I don’t have human behavior and the nature of your spirit implanted in me as data. I have observation, and I react based on my own emotions… now, I don’t think as humans do by any stretch of the imagination, but don’t sell me so short, Master.” He stepped closer and Link instinctively shrunk back. “I have the ability to envisage, and decide, and wonder, and _feel…_ ”

Link stepped back once again, his back hitting the cabinet behind him. “D-Doesn’t mean you- you think you can get in my head so easily-” He stuttered quietly, frustration and agitation rising under his reddening cheeks.

Ghirahim tilted his head and tapped his cheek contemplatively with a smirk. “You, in particular, have given me quite a lot to unravel.”

"You don't know anything about me!" He retorted, louder than expected.

The spirit stepped forward once more, invading Link's space and forcing him back so he was effectively pinned to the cabinet.

"Oh, dear child, I think I've already proven that to be untrue..." He reached out and gloved fingers brushed sweetly along the others' cheek.

That was enough to uncork Link's panic and he reacted without thinking, slapping Ghirahim's hand off of him hard. He had barely processed the movement when in a swift retaliation Ghirahim's other hand had snapped out and grabbed Link by the throat, shoving him harshly against the unforgiving wood.

"Now, now. Be careful. I don't think you want to incite me to play rough." Ghirahim murmured with a smirk. Link struggled to breathe, frozen for a moment with sudden heart palpitations as his mind threw him back into the feeling of frenzied battles, sword in hand, dark eyes staring him down-

Anger suddenly fueled the boy into action. "Get OFF!" Link growled, throwing a punch so unexpectedly that it met its mark square and hard, right at Ghirahim's face, forcing the demon a couple steps back.

Link crumpled to the floor with a fit of coughing, rubbing his neck and not looking up. He was so aggravated that he didn't even care if Ghirahim wanted to get him back. His hand throbbed with pain – he’d forgotten that Ghirahim’s skin was harder than a human’s.

Ghirahim held his fist rubbing at his cheek, his hair obscuring his expression. "A tad touchy, are we?" He mused.

Link slowly pushed himself to his feet. “You-”

The sound of a door opening startled Link fiercely, his skin going cold, but he realized it wasn’t his own door.

“U-uh… Link? You okay over there? I was just coming back and I thought I heard something…”

The partition dividing his room from Fledge’s side wasn’t more than a couple wood panels rather than an actual wall, and Link huffed internally- knowing Fledge, how long had he been standing at his doorway listening before he decided to come in?

“Yeah- fine- all fine. I fell over, is all.” He answered, casting a glare at Ghirahim, who raised a brow in amusement. He’d moved to stand close by the wall, making him unable to be spotted through the partition.

“Oh- okay. Hey- you should come talk to me sometime, maybe, if you want to. Been a… well, a really long time since we hung out, I haven’t even really seen you since you, um, came back, and all.”

Link looked over at the crack in the partition seeing Fledge waving through it, and he managed a small smile. “S-Sure… hopefully we can do that soon. I was just going to go for a walk now, though.”

Fledge nodded and moved away and Link sighed quietly, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand. Monsters hadn’t come out at night on Skyloft ever since Link cleared the final Silent Realm, but from habit he threw his simple blade over his back and gestured Ghirahim to follow. They went up the stairs and out the top floor doors. Night had just fallen, making the streets near empty. He caught Ghirahim frowning at him and he looked at him with a furrowed brow. “What?”

Ghirahim crossed his arms. “Have you a reason you picked up that dull toothpick over my blade?”

Link glanced at the sword he carried and back in surprise. “Uh… I just. Didn’t think about it, I guess… and besides,” he huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t need anyone seeing that sword just yet.”

He glanced around, making a quick decision before he walked over the wall of the school and jumped up to grip the protruding ledge, scooting himself over to the overhang top. He continued along to where he could climb up the wall, reaching the rooftop. Ghirahim appeared in a flash of light, still looking disgruntled as he eyed Link’s movement, which he continued up to the second part of the roof. He sat on the edge of it and took a deep breath, resting his wrists on his knees. He glanced up toward Ghirahim, then after a second of thought he tentatively patted the ledge next to him. The demon walked over, and with a single leap he was high enough to land gracefully beside him, sitting in the indicated place. They were quiet a moment, the interruption of their altercation having jarred Link from his emotional state.

“It- it doesn’t really matter to you, anyway…” Link mumbled finally, fiddling with his sleeves, his hands bare. “Why are you so bothered by no one knowing, uh, about… you?”

“Well, you’d be a bit miffed as well if _you_ were such a beautiful blade and _your_ master locked you in his bedroom and forbade you any access to the outside world, I’m sure.” Ghirahim answered easily, pulling a face.

Link gave a short, scoffing laugh. “Somehow I find it hard to believe you’ll actually listen to me, though.”

 “…What about _I am your sword_ is failing to sink into your little human mind, _Master?”_

The boy paused, looking to Ghirahim with his brow furrowed questioningly.

Ghirahim stared him down a long moment, then lowered his head and started chuckling quietly, then full-on laughed aloud.

“Do you think I will so unfailingly obey your orders merely because I am striving to be the gold-star-winning sword? I heed what is expected of me because I am bound by our contract.”

Link looked taken aback. “You… _what?_ You _have_ to um- obey… me?”

Ghirahim made a show of rolling his eyes, gesturing vaguely.

“…Oh.” Link replied lamely, blinking in surprise.

Ghirahim scoffed, then crossed his arms. “Also, I do have some business to take care of, so I would appreciate you lifting your ‘keep hidden’ order as soon as possible, you see.”

Link frowned at him. “What’s that supposed to mean…?”

The spirit made a vague noise in response and Link huffed, not probing further and leaning forward to rest his chin in his palms.

He didn’t see Ghirahim looking over at him with a mixture of wonder and wariness, nor did he suspect Ghirahim’s confusion over why the boy didn’t use his newfound power to wrench the truth from the demon.

The sky was now fully painted with the deep blues of night, and Link rubbed his eyes with a sigh. “I can’t stay here with… all of this going on. We’re going back to the surface in the morning.” He mumbled, pausing only one more moment before he jumped off the ledge, and headed back inside the academy, apparently having enough faith in his order to the spirit to not bother making him come along.

Regardless, Ghirahim did follow.

 


	6. Buying Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you explain something to those you care about when you can't even make sense of it to yourself?

 “You look like you’ve never seen a sword before, child.” The demon sounded entirely unimpressed.

Link looked up from the blade he was examining and cleared his throat. “Well… I’m not exactly familiar with this one yet.” He replied with a frown.

The past day or so since they arrived in the woods had gone by slowly, consisting mostly of Link wandering through the trees, trying to get his thoughts in order. He thought Ghirahim might just wander off to do whatever he does, but Link was surprised to find that Ghirahim silently followed him, appearing in his periphery every few moments. Link had been sitting at the platform looking over Floria Waterfalls, and though he couldn’t see it, he could sense Ghirahim’s restlessness. He paced nearby, irritated by Link’s inaction. Finally, he approached the boy, got his attention, and shoved his sword in his hands.

“ _As my Master, it would be wise for you to know how to wield me properly.”_

With no good reason _not_ to, they stood in a clearing, facing each other as though to battle – but Link tried not to think about that.

“As breathtakingly stunning as my blade is, I’m afraid simply staring at it will not familiarize yourself with it in the way that you should be focusing on,” Ghirahim replied with a roll of his eyes. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

Link couldn’t help but be nervous, so as they began some warm-up for Link to get a feel for the weight and length he moved fairly tentatively, unlike the easy sweeping strokes of the Master Sword. Ghirahim snorted in derision.

“How can you expect be a worthwhile wielder of my sword like that?”

“I _know_ how to use a sword, Ghirahim. I mean- _obviously._ ”

“It’s not so obvious right now, brat,” the demon scoffed.

“Look, it’s my first time with this thing, and it feels-” He searched for the right word, about to settle on _weird,_ but Ghirahim was giving him a glare that thoroughly offput him from insulting the sword. “…Different,” he mumbled.

“This _thing_ is a blade more powerful than just about anything in the world, so I’d say it’s worth getting past the growing pains.” Ghirahim snapped, snatching the blade from his hands.

“I’m sure it’s _great._ I wouldn’t know yet!” Link snapped back.

“Perhaps if you weren’t such a pathetic swordsman you’d understand a thing or two about swords.”

“Maybe if you weren’t such a pathetic _sword_ I’d be better at understanding you!”

He ducked out from under the punch just before it was thrown, barreling into Ghirahim’s torso instead to try and knock him over – given how small Link was in comparison, it was relatively easy to hit right in the demons’ center of gravity, but Ghirahim was already bent forward so he only succeeded in pushing him back before he got a knee to the stomach.

He lurched and coughed as the wind was knocked out him, air that already seemed difficult for Link to get sometimes now even worse. But he didn’t give up the scuffle, throwing a punch that was caught and another that connected – right into Ghirahim’s chest.

The demon stumbled back, heaving, and Link staggered to keep to his feet.

“ _You wretched, loathsome child!”_ Ghirahim snarled, leaping at Link and throwing him to the ground. The boys’ head swam dizzily and he blinked blearily to see Ghirahim holding his own blade at Link’s throat.

“Must you possess such ignorance and lack of care in _all_ things?!”

Link struggled to breathe as fear took hold of him, not understanding what Ghirahim was talking about – or what he would do with that sword.

The spirit seemed to catch Link’s fearful look, because he glanced from his blade to his master, looking enigmatic, then smiling slowly.

Link noticed something he had sensed, and once he acknowledged that he suddenly found himself filled with the knowledge that, for lack of a better phrase – _there was nothing to be afraid of._

Ghirahim started to laugh, and Link only became more confused. Ghirahim pulled back, sitting on his heels and lowering the sword to the ground. Link was quick to sit up, swallowing hard.

“My, my- for a moment there you really looked terrified. Imagine! _My_ master – with such a look!” He started to practically giggle almost uncontrollably, an arm wrapped around his middle and the other at his lips.

Link frowned at him, sitting the rest of the way up. “What are you talking about?”

Ghirahim rubbed his chin as his cackling subsided, eyeing Link with amused eyes. “I just never thought I would see the day that such a thing would happen... it’s refreshing, honestly. You are so strange, child.”

His usual aloof arrogance settled back into his features, sheathing his blade back within his chest and standing. Link stared at him warily, completely lost on what had just happened in the multitude of sudden shifts in Ghirahim’s demeanor. “Why can’t you ever just be direct with me?” Link huffed in frustration.

“Because you must learn.” Ghirahim replied easily.

Two more days passed in this manner, training, fighting, calming down – just a cycle that quickly had Link weary of it. But the cycle broke on the third day.

Link wandered the woods, just stretching his legs and enjoying the calm of the familiar paths. He settled in front of the pool of water before the Great Tree, idly bouncing his feet and leaning back on his hands. He closed his eyes, enjoying the calm atmosphere. He pulled out his harp and began to play a random tune to fill the silence.

A small metallic chime accompanied by gentle taps of footsteps to the sound alerted him to Ghirahim’s arrival, and as always when the spirit appeared, there was a strange leap of wariness and happiness. He tensed slightly, just barely cracking his eyes open, worried what Ghirahim had come to bug him about.

Instead, the spirit merely sat quietly close behind him, letting their backs lean together. Link blinked sleepily, a small smile touching his face, and he relaxed the rest of the way back. He continued to play until his eyes became heavy, and his nap took place with him leaned against Ghirahim’s back.

He didn't know what had compelled him to be so easily comfortable with the spirit for the moment, but he liked it, liked the reprieve from the chaos that wouldn't seem to leave his mind.


	7. Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some further insights into Zelda's state of mind and the relationship with her and Link.

_Her whole body ached, and she couldn’t move, first bound by pain and shock, then by a force entirely unnatural. She tried to fight it, knowing her friends would be trying to rush to her aid… not for the first time, and despair washed over her as she thought that at the very end, their efforts might have been for nothing after all._

_Then something seized a hold of her, not pain exactly, but a deep-set discomfort she couldn’t escape. Her world went black, lost in the recesses of her mind – which felt like it was slowly slipping away, like someone was liquefying her being inside her body to break it into moveable pieces that would be drawn out of her like her very blood from her skin. She struggled to get away from the sensation, to keep herself together as her light faded._

_“Alas… the stubborn child is up and at ‘em faster than I anticipated…  seems this process will take a bit longer than it should. However, perhaps this little hardship can be the beginnings of your penance, so I’m afraid I have no remorse._

_“It’ll be over soon, dear Hylia…”_

 

Zelda bolted awake, beads of cold sweat sliding down her forehead. She darted her eyes around her room, taking in reality as she gulped in air. The memory of being under the spell to remove her soul had haunted her dreams, but that smooth voice rang in her ears – she hadn’t recalled that before.

_“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it’s all over.”_

She bit her lip as Link’s words rang in her memory, then threw back her covers and hurried out of her room and padded down the stairs, not even bothering to change out of her nightgown first. She stopped at the first door at the foot of the steps and knocked gently a few times.

For some reason, the lack of response filled her with a sinking feeling, and she carefully pushed the door open to see for herself – perhaps he was just sleeping, but even before setting eyes on the empty bed she knew she didn’t entirely believe that. After all, sleepyhead Link, not in his room at midmorning – what was that about? And more importantly, she realized she hadn’t set eyes on Link since she stopped by that one afternoon.

She stood in the center of his room with uncertainty as she glanced around the familiar space, devoid of a certain familiar smile.

“Oh- h-hi Zelda…”

She turned quickly, slightly startled. “Oh! Good morning, Fledge.” She cleared her throat, clasping her hands. “Have you any idea what’s got Link up so early?”

He shook his head, but a worried look was apparent on his face. “Well… actually, I saw him head off the nearest platform some days ago, and I haven’t seen him around since.” He twisted his hands nervously. “You know… this may, um, this may be n-nothing, really, but… well, it’s something else unusual, so, so I guess I should tell you…”

She tilted her head and took a step forward. “What is it?”

“Well, um, only just that I… I thought I heard him talking to someone in his room a bit before he left… well, um… sounded a bit more like fighting. But I’m not… really sure… but it’s weird for him to just be taking off so much, isn’t it? And… that’s weird too…”

Zelda’s brows had knit together and she bunched the sides of her dress in her hands as she thought about this. “It is a bit…” Her face abruptly cleared and she smiled. “But he sure has a lot on his mind right now. Let’s not worry about him too much, yeah? I know Link. He’ll be fine.”

Fledge blinked, then nodded quickly in agreement. “Yeah! You’re right, totally. He’s way ahead of the rest of us, so we shouldn’t really be questioning him.” He smiled brightly, and Zelda nodded in turn.

“Of course. Well, since he’s out I’ll just head back. Have yourself a good day, alright?”

As soon as Fledge had left her line of sight Zelda was rushing back up the stairs as fast as her feet could take her, the worried lines right back in place on her expression. She quickly dressed for flight, and her instinct told her to go to Faron Woods.

* * *

Down amongst the green, the missing hero was sitting with his back to a fallen log near the Goddess Statue, his eyes closed as he felt the rising sun shift where it shone on him, steadily warming his brown hair from the back to the top.

“Just what, precisely, will continuing this residence in the forest do for us?” He heard Ghirahim grumble from somewhere to his left, interrupting the calm silence.

“I told you already… it’s just, it’ll give us some time, that’s what.” He sighed in response, not opening his eyes.

“For?”

“For figuring things out, okay? It’s easier without feeling like everyone is staring at me.”

He heard Ghirahim huff, and he took a breath to center himself again. He still found the ability to speak casually with the demon a pretty strange feeling, his head still reeling with the new development they had to work with.

 “…Well, it seems the company has once again decided to find you.” He heard Ghirahim snort, and his eyes flew open to see the other looking up at a shape descending rapidly toward them from the sky.

“I will assume your order is still in place and thus take my leave for the moment, Master.”

With a short, mocking bow, Ghirahim vanished, and Link stood and took a few steps forward as the purple Loftwing stopped its dive and began to spiral down instead, alighting with a shake of its feathers and letting Zelda hop off before it leapt back up into a lazier flight.

“Link…! There you are!”

He nodded and offered a smile that fell when the light in Zelda’s face dimmed into worry.

She fiddled with her bound hair, looking to the side. “I… I was worried when you weren’t in your room this morning…”

He blinked in realization. “You came looking for me?”

She nodded. “Yes, and then I heard you left again so I… I came to find you here. I’m lucky you weren’t further into the forest.” She bit her lip. “Link… there’s… something important I need to talk to you about.”

He nodded once and stepped closer to invite her to speak, looking at her with steady attention. He didn’t show it, but he felt his chest tighten.

She took a breath, looking down in thought. “Well… I’ve been… feeling something lately – it reminded me of what you said. Like there’s something unfinished, or… I’m not sure. But it’s got me unsettled, and…” Her eyes drifted to the side, and her sentence trailed off. Link started to speak but then she took a step forward, looking past Link now, as though enraptured by something.

“Link… hey… where did you get that _sword_ …?”

The boy froze, his heart leaping into his throat.

He slowly turned to look, and saw Ghirahim’s blade was laying out a short distance away, near where he had been sitting moments ago – he remembered had been cleaning it before being distracted. He could feel static rushing in his ears, his mind racing with what he should say.

Zelda still seemed caught in wonder. “It looks strangely familiar…” she murmured, stepping closer to it, just past Link.

“Zelda!” Link abruptly snapped, taking her wrist and making her look back toward him. Her eyes jumped in surprise at the sudden sharpness to her friend’s expression, which faded as quickly as it had come. Link took a quick breath in composing himself from whatever had gripped him into stopping her so immediately. “That sword- it’s… look, it’s hard to explain, but…” He shook his head, swallowing hard.

She fully faced him again, taking her hand back. “Link… you found something on your last trip… didn’t you?”

He looked at her helplessly, his mind racing, but he already knew - he couldn’t lie his way into more time again.

“…Yeah, I… I did.” He cast his eyes down and took a breath before meeting her eye again. “Zelda… I need you to listen to me very carefully- and I need you to trust me.” He spoke much quieter, looking at her with gentleness and urgency mixed in his blue eyes, his hands tense at his sides. “Because… no matter what, I’ve never let you down, and everything I have ever done has been to protect you…”

She looked at him with alarm mixed in with the faith she had in him, but she nodded calmly. “I know… please, tell me everything.”

He swallowed and looked down again. “I told you that I sensed something unfinished, or still wrong, somehow, and… with what you just told me… maybe… maybe you and I sensed the same thing. I came down here because I just felt compelled to, I felt… something that brought me here to the temple. And… I…” His throat closed anxiously, and he flinched before the words even left his mouth.

“I found… Ghirahim. He’s still alive.”

He could feel her horror practically emanate out of her, and he felt cold with the pressure of everything he had to reveal to her.

“He… what… no…” she whispered, pressing her fingers to her mouth. “You mean- you didn’t defeat him after all…? What _happened?”_ She looked over him in concern as though checking for injuries. “Link- you didn’t have to fight again… did you?”

He sighed in resignation and let his hands go slack. “No. He was in no way able to fight. But… I couldn’t kill him. Or… or I wouldn’t. I’m not sure. But I couldn’t just leave him there… he was…” He shook his head. “Zelda, he could hardly even move. It didn’t feel right to just kill him while he was hurt and pretty much defenseless.”

“Then… what did you do?” She asked quietly.

She was looking at him with such worry that he could barely meet her eye, but he forced himself to. He swallowed again and pressed himself to keep going. “…Listen, I… I need a new sword. And he offered… to be that.”

“You- you’re going to be his- Link- he tried to kill you!” she stuttered. “You can’t have- do you know what that _means_ if you-”

“He’s not the first sword spirit I’ve been bound to.” Link commented dryly, a humorless smile on his lips. “I… I know what it means. I really do. I don’t have another option, anyway.”

“But… he… Link…” she had her hands clasped in front of her chest, looking shaken. “He tried to destroy you, me, our whole _world._ How could you still…” Her big eyes turned sad and she stepped forward, putting her hand on his chest. “You already saved so many- please. Don’t give up your life like this for him. There has to be something else-”

He put his hands over hers with a small smile and a shrug. “It doesn’t matter if there was. I did it already… that’s his sword, there.”

Her eyes turned round with shock, her face going pale.

Link sighed a bit roughly. “Zelda… I-I’m sorry, and I know this must sound really scary, I… I can’t imagine this being easy for you…”

_No matter what, I’ve never let you down, and everything I have ever done has been to protect you…_

“But listen - you know that I will never let anything hurt you again. Especially him. Right?”

_I need you to trust me._

“I trust you.” Zelda answered with ease.

“I- wh- what…?” The boy blinked at her, taken aback.

“Of course I don’t like it, but… Link, if this is about having faith in _you_ , then… you deserve that from me, at the very least.”

He stared at her for a long moment, but all he felt he could do was hug her tightly in gratitude. He could sense her heartfelt desire to understand, to make things easier on him, and he hadn’t realized how much the fear of her reaction had weighed on him. And for a moment, he could pretend they were the friends they once were, scared over something like training or exams and finding comfort in the solidity they had. But instead of Zelda fretting over her lazy, sleepy best friend and leaping in on his behalf to save him from a mistake he hadn’t even made yet, here she was telling him he’d earned her automatic faith in him. It felt like a lifetime away from _“father, I don’t think he can do it!”_ and all at once, the estrangement between them resettled.

“I know you just want to do the right thing, and you who have proven your courage and wisdom to all the gods and creatures of this land…” She smiled at him as they parted, giving her formal words a feeling of acting. “Well… I can only hope to be here for you if only as a fraction of what you’ve done for me.”

He nodded, smiling wearily.

“Come back as soon as you’re ready, okay? I want to have another meeting so we can get started on surface construction as soon as possible.”

She left him to his space, taking off back into the clouds. But she didn’t land for awhile yet herself, her mind churning. He deserved her support, no doubt… but still, was it _right?_  

* * *

 

It was drawing into the darkest hues of the evening outside the kitchen windows, where Zelda sat brooding over a mug of tea growing cold on the table as her fingertips tapped the rim. She abruptly raised her eyes as a shadow caught her attention, startling as though to stand, but she eased herself back down as recognition came to her.

Ghirahim stepped into more light and gave a bow. “Good evening, Your Grace.”

She drew herself up with a rigid expression. “Ghirahim…” She returned stiffly.

Ghirahim hummed softly. “You’re looking well… but how fairs your mortal form? Still masquerading, I see.” He smirked with a flip of his wrist.

“You’re one to talk.” She raised her chin defiantly, but Ghirahim only shrugged.

“Now, now, it would be crude to engage in an argument as our first act in the new roles we now inhabit, don’t you agree?” He smirked as she scowled.

“…Your orders were lifted, I see.”

He elegantly waved a hand. “Yes, but a few other restrictions were put in place, should that ease your mind.”

“I’m not afraid of you anymore, demon,” she countered, folding her hands – which shook just imperceptibly.

“Well, I certainly have no intention of disobeying the master I have voluntarily struck up a contract with.” He put the side of his hand to his middle and performed a fluid bow. Despite the sincerity of the words, something about the entire action held a certain hint of mockery, as it always did.

“I will hold you to it. As the spirit of the chosen hero’s blade, I cannot help but expect high things of you.” Zelda responded coolly.

Nothing about it was visible, but there was a very faint sensation of Ghirahim bristling before it faded almost immediately.

“As you should.” He straightened, standing tall and aloof. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Zelda abruptly cut him off.

“Why Link?”

He stopped, eyeing her for a moment as she turned her face away.

“…Why… did you make Link your master?”

Ghirahim’s face recomposed itself and he tapped a finger to his lips. “He was the most obvious candidate, wouldn’t you agree? I am a powerful sword, and he is a strong swordsman.”

“But he killed your previous master… one whom you seemed so utterly loyal to. What does that mean I should expect of you in this new contract with Link?”

Her undertones were fairly obvious: _will you fail in defending him, and merely continue on to the next alpha swordsman?_

Ghirahim’s expression darkened and his sigh held hints of irritation at what she implied. “Little goddess… forgive me, but even you haven’t a clue what truly went on in the war with Demise.”

Before she could question him further, he snapped his fingers and disappeared.


End file.
